Wandering Child
by Mockingbird
Summary: This isn't an another woman fanfic! It's about a girl who meets the phantom and what happens to them. Please review! I need a reason to continue this! Ppppppppppppplllllllllllllllllllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!
1. The Meeting

Author's note: No one in this story except Claire belongs to me! All of the POTO characters belong to their creator! Okay, my paragraphs are probably really screwed up, I'm sorry 'bout that J. I've never done anything like this before, please review.  
  
" I can't sing." That was Claire Devoir's reponse to all the prompting and encouragement her friends gave her. Claire had been working at the Opera House since she was twelve. Her love for theatre and music inspired her to walk in and beg for a job. No girl lacking talent could ever hope to appear on the stage, but any lowborn street child could become a cleaning woman. The manager took her on out of charity. Claire soon proved herself useful.   
  
" I think you should try at least once." Meg Giry said one day. Claire was dusting the arms of the audience seats. " The worst that could happen would be for them to turn you down." Claire slapped her dusting rag on a seat a few times, not even making an effort to listen. " Why should you be afraid to try something, Claire? You're usually so brave."  
  
" I'm not scared!" Claire said. " I just can't sing. I'm not scared of anything."  
  
" Are you scared that the Opera Ghost will fall in love with you and take you away?" Meg teased.  
  
Claire laughed. " There's no such thing as the Opera Ghost."  
  
" Oh, don't say that." Meg said, suddenly serious. " He might be listening." Both girls turned to look at the infamous Box Five. Claire strained her ears, trying to catch the sound of a rustling cloak or wicked laugh.  
  
A loud noise made her jump. Meg had kicked a seat. " Not scared of the Opera Ghost?" the older girl asked. Claire glared.  
  
" He disappeared two years ago." she said. " There probably never was a Ghost. Only a man who liked scaring people." She cast one more nervous glance at Box Five. " He's probably dead." she said.  
  
" I hope not." said Meg. " Then who would teach you how to sing?" She laughed and went to her dressing room.  
  
" I'm not going to learn to sing!" Claire shouted after her. " It wouldn't do any good anyways. No one would be able to teach ME how to sing." She started to dust again.  
  
"Why would you waste your time on me anyway?" she shouted, as if the Ghost could hear her. " They wouldn't give me a chance. They know I can't sing and so do you. Meg is wrong." She started to hum and dusted faster. Her humming turned to soft singing.  
  
Think of me  
Think of me fondly when we've said good-bye  
Remember me, once in a while  
Please promise me you'll try  
  
Applause sounded from Box Five. Claire stopped and whirled toward the sound. She clapped her hands over her mouth, unable to believe that she had sung right where anyone could hear!  
  
" Stop playing around, Meg!" She said. " That's not funny." The applause continued. " Would you stop? I know it's you." Claire peered into the shadows. " Are you allowed up there? You better not get in trouble!"  
  
Someone laughed. Not Meg's voice! " I cannot get in trouble. I don't exist!" Claire caught a small glimpse of a cape, the shimmer of a white mask.  
  
"You're the Opera Ghost!" she said.  
  
" You don't give your voice enough credit." The Ghost went on, ignoring her. " If you were taught properly, it would be as your friends tell you."  
  
" My voice...?" Claire put a hand on her throat. She shook her head. " No, I don't have a voice. I can't sing."  
  
" Are you afraid?" The Ghost had a voice though, a beautiful voice that made Claire want to laugh and cry at the same time.  
  
" I'm not... afraid." Claire was afraid, but she wasn't about to tell HIM that. " I just know I can't sing." Why did she think that? Who had told her that?  
  
She waited for the Ghost to answer her, to tell her she was right or wrong. But there was no answer. Claire sat in a seat. No Opera Gost indeed. " I'm sorry I said you weren't real!" she said. 


	2. The Angel Phantom

Claire grabbed Meg's hand. " He's real! You were right and I was wrong. I thought he didn't exist, but he does and I saw him!" Claire caught her breath and made an attempt to straighten her hair, aware of how foolish she must look.  
  
" Slow down." said Meg. " You saw the Phantom?" Claire nodded. Meg laughed. " I told you so! I'm glad he's still here."  
  
" He said I had a good voice." Claire said. " Or, he said it would be good if I had the right teacher. I don't understand at all. He just left. Meg, why would a ghost lie to me?'  
  
Meg laughed. " So you were singing! Ha, I wish I had gotten to hear you. I knew you wanted to sing." Claire pushed Meg's shoulder.  
  
" Stop. I was just playing around. But why would he say I had a good voice? Why wouldn't he just tell me the truth? From all the stories, he doesn't sound like the type who would care about hurting a girl's feelings."  
  
" He isn't." Meg looked at her friend. " He would criticize you voice until you ran out of tears to cry. I don't think he would lie to you." Claire sat on the floor in a daze.  
  
" But I don't have a good voice. Everyone always said so."  
  
" Who said so?" Meg asked.  
  
" Everyone."  
  
" No, Claire, I want names. Who ever told you that you couldn't sing?" Meg placed a hand on Claire's shoulder. " No one here ever told you that."  
  
" My-" Claire was interrupted by Madame Giry storming into the hallway.  
  
" Whether you girls like it or not, there is a dress rehearsal being held in two minutes. Meg Giry, if you want to stay a dancer, I suggest that you go now. You two can talk later. After the show. Claire, they need you onstage, something was spilled."  
  
Meg took another concerned look at Claire and left. Claire shifted her weight. " Madame Giry," she began. " Do you believe in ghosts? You know, specters, ghouls, phantoms?" Madame Giry glanced sharply at the young woman. Claire gave a timid grin. " I was just asking." she said.  
  
Madame Giry thought for a moment. " Are you talking about phantoms, my girl, or a certain angel?" She went to the stage, leaving Claire confused.  
  
" An angel." she thought. " Maybe he's an angel." 


	3. The Coward

A special Thanx to Locked Heart Ami and Lady Bianca for sending me my first reviews and being honest. I love it when you tell me the truth as much as I like compliments! I will try my best to make my characters more believable and evil Eric up a bit. I was annoyed at myself 4 that you know. I'm glad people are reading this. Please keep up the reviews you wonderful critics!  
  
Erik played a few chords. He was restless. The child puzzled him. He puzzled himself. He hadn't spoken with anyone in three years, not since Christine. He had revealed himself to a complete stranger. And worse, he had told her that she had a nice voice. It certainly had a pretty sound, but there was no quality, no refinement that made it special. He pounded his fist. What possessed him? What was so special about her? She was just a slut's child who wasn't good enough to get into an opera.  
  
Why had she looked at him like that?  
  
Meg twirled on her toes down the hallway. " How did I do?"  
  
" You were fine." Claire said. " The dance solo was great. I loved it."  
  
Meg studied the other girl. " Either I did terrible and you're lying, or something is on your mind." Claire stared. " Well you're making this face." Meg demonstrated. " And you don't talk, you're just mumbling." Claire shrugged. Meg took her hand. " Come on, we're all going out to celebrate our last rehearsal. You come with me."  
  
" Was that an order or just a question in bad french?" Claire said. Meg rolled her eyes. Claire sighed. "Anyway, what ever it was, I'm not going."  
  
" Why not?"  
  
" It's for you." Claire said. " You're ballet friends don't want the mop girl tagging along, do they?"  
  
" I want you to tag along." Meg insisted. " Please come."  
  
Claire shook her head. " You don't need me to have a good time. Go have fun with the actors." Claire blushed when she said "actors". She could never be one of them and if she went, it would only make her jealousy grow. " Meg, you can't understand. You're my friend, but this is something you wouldn't know about."  
  
" How can I know anything if you refuse to talk to me?" Meg said, hurt. " Claire, just let me know what's wrong."  
  
How? How could she explain to her best friend that she was jealous? Jealous of people who shouldn't be any better than her, but were. How could she tell Meg that she was just a child, sulking in envy? She couldn't. Claire turne to leave.  
  
" Come on, Claire!" Meg pleaded. " There is nothing that you can't tell me." Claire paid no attention. " I know that you aren't a coward!" Meg shouted after her. " So stop acting like one!"  
  
But I am a coward. Claire thought. I'm afraid of the ballet girls. I'm afraid of the Prima Donnas and the chorus and the directors and all of them. I'm afraid of telling my best friend the truth. And worst of all, I'm afraid of myself.  
  
It was late when Claire finally got home. Uncle Quinn, mama's irish brother, was waiting for her in his favorite chair. " It's almost two o clock." he said. " Did they run rehearsal extra late?"  
  
" No. I had a lot of cleaning up to do." Claire lied. " One of the actors tripped over a sand bag and it broke, so I had to clean it up." She sat on the floor next to him.   
  
" Tomorrow's the big show, isn't it?"  
  
" For the actors it is. For the audience it is. It's just another floor to wash, for me." Uncle Quinn pat her hair.  
  
" Someday, that will be you on a stage." He laughed. " And someday, the Home Away From Home Inn will become the most famous inn in all of France."  
  
" I hope so." said Claire. " Because I'm not even going to try singing for your customers without voice lessons." Claire sighed. The Inn was failing and teachers were expensive. Quinn was trying, but between payments and his love for drink she wasn't going to sing anywhere but in her sleep. (Quinn and the boys complained of that constantly.)  
  
" It will. Trust me on this one." Quinn lit his pipe. " You got to trust me on this one, I've got a good feeling."  
  
" I trust you, Quinn." 


End file.
